inkytoru

[inkytoru]

gojo is so fucking extra that if you block him, this man will make sure he inserts himself in every corner you go. you remove him from every social media, he is in your emails. you go out for a walk, he is on the fucking digital billboard doing a little heart with his hands and a text that says "i love you y/n" in bold red letters. you go home in frustration and open uber eats, and fifteen minutes later you suddenly find gojo in a uniform and a brown package of your order in his hand. you snatch it, and just when you're about to shut the door in his face, he invites himself in.

"you forgot to tip me, love."

fuck. here we go again. so then, you end up on the couch, face down ass up as he fucks his cock in you. pulling every orgasm for each day he was away from you. he'll make sure that you don't even have the right mind to think about blocking him next time.

—this is the idea on top of my head. if this is good for a plot then lmk i will write a fic on this.

[inkytoru]

So much time has gone by, I didn’t know how much I would change

[inkytoru]

satoru cries internally when you fall asleep without kissing him goodnight.

he stares at the ceiling like he’s in a drama. blankly. hollowly. arms still wrapped around you while you’re already snuggled into his chest, dead asleep, breathing even and soft and beautiful. and sure, you did murmur a little “goodnight” right after collapsing onto him like a starfish. but where was the kiss? the ritual? the goodnight smooch he looks forward to like clockwork?

he turns his face into your hair, sighs. dramatic. desolate. devastated.

“i can’t believe this,” he whispers to himself like you’ve committed a grave betrayal. “not even a forehead one? not even a little peck?”

listen. he gets it. technically. he’s just rearranged your insides like he was trying to make a map of his name inside your body. you were probably exhausted—barely able to get the word “goodnight” out, slurring it into his sweat-damp collarbone, limbs gone boneless against him. still, that doesn’t mean he won’t lay there feeling unloved. forgotten. discarded like a piece of tissue paper after valentine’s.

he scooches down just a bit to pout at your face. you’re drooling. adorable. utterly at peace. he watches the way your lashes flutter faintly, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips from some dream. but still.

he pokes your cheek gently, like maybe you’ll stir, apologize, and plant one on him. nothing. not even a twitch. he debates waking you up. just a little. just for a kiss. he wouldn’t mind a sleepy, mumbled one. he’d even settle for the kind you do half-asleep where you miss and it lands on his chin or his eyebrow.

he stares. waits. contemplates writing a will.

but then you make a little noise in your sleep, sigh his name, curl even tighter into his chest with your fingers bunching in his shirt like he’s your comfort and peace all at once.

okay. fine. he guesses he’ll forgive you. just this once.

but he buries his face into your neck, presses a kiss there anyway, soft and lingering. dramatic, yes, but quiet in its sincerity. you don’t wake, but your body shifts ever so slightly like it knows—like you always know.

(still. he’s waking up early to dramatically pout about it over breakfast. he’ll bring it up while you’re pouring coffee like it’s a national emergency. just so you know.)

[inkytoru]

satoru doesn’t mean to smile during arguments. really, he doesn’t. it just happens. you’re standing there, glaring at him like he’s the last brain cell on earth, hands on your hips, voice sharp with all the righteous fury of someone whose husband just loaded the dishwasher wrong for the third time this week. and he knows you’re mad. you’re scolding him, passionately, domestically, like a loving wife with a bone to pick and a kitchen to keep from descending into chaos.

but god, you’re so cute when you’re mad.

like—what is he supposed to do? not smile? not melt a little when you stomp your foot and jab your finger at the detergent pod box like it personally offended you? not get completely deranged over the fact that his wife, the love of his life, the person who picked him, is standing there yelling at him over crumbs on the counter like it’s the end of the world?

so yeah. he tends to smile. a little. maybe a lot. maybe it’s a grin. maybe it’s unhinged. he’s not even sure anymore.

and then you pause mid-rant. squint. narrow your eyes. “what are you smiling for? do you even take me seriously?”

satoru immediately gets full-body emotional whiplash. instant regret. wet cat mode activated.

“no, no, i do, angel, i swear,” he says way too fast, hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint. “i just—you're so cute when you're angry, it’s a problem. a serious one. i’m suffering.”

you don’t look amused. not even a little. he considers diving out the window.

because yeah, he’s bipolar about it. on one hand: you’re mad at him and that makes his chest ache and his brain fuzz and his heart do this panicky do something!!! dance. but on the other hand: he’d literally write sonnets about how hot you look when you're in cleaning gloves and yelling about mixing whites and darks.

it's a tragic situation. he wants to make it right. but he also wants to put a ring on your finger all over again.

because this is married life. this is love. this is you, with your hands on your hips and your brows furrowed, looking at him like he’s both the bane of your existence and the only idiot you’d trust with your forever.

and satoru’s brain just goes, wow. lucky me.

even if he’s currently in trouble for putting the towel in the wrong laundry load. again.

worth it. totally worth it.

[inkytoru]

need to sit in his lap while he yaps about his nerdy little interests and his hands wonder all over my body

[inkytoru]

[inkytoru]

🏷️ TAGLIST: @hunters-association, @pixelcafe-network, @cosmicties

KISS WITH A FIST ── .✦ ꒰ caleb y. ꒱

SYNOPSIS: You were tired of constantly being treated like a thing to protect by your older stepbrother, Caleb. Having reached your breaking point, you punch him. These are the consequences of your actions; the aftermath spelling out the beginning of the end.

PAIRING: caleb yizhou x f!reader WORD COUNT: 2.4k ⚠ CONTENT WARNINGS: dubcon, pseudo/stepcest, non-consensual spanking/impact play, humiliation, blood, violence, power dynamics/imbalance, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, vaginal fingering, manipulative aftercare

A/N: minors dni. this was supposed to be a short drabble idk what happened. anyways, angry caleb with a nosebleed anyone?

ao3 mirror.

“You always do this, gege!” you whine, and Caleb thinks you look breathtaking as always, but especially so with the way tears of frustration bead at your lashline and how that damned pout of yours makes his cock stir.

The restraint it took to not ravage you right then and there almost makes him want to groan.

Instead, a slight frown tugs at his lips as he looks down at you.

“He’s no good for you, pips. Why do you always go for the shitheads?” And why won’t you ever look at me the way you do at them?

You looked as if a scream was about to tear itself from your throat.

“Who are you to tell me who’s good for me or not?!” your voice was rising to a dangerous volume, and Caleb was glad grandma wasn’t home.

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

“You may not be,” Caleb grits through his teeth, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you.” The way a good boyfriend would do.

At this point, the tears that were welling up in your eyes now fell freely and slid down your cheeks. It broke Caleb’s heart that he was the one making you cry, and a flash of regret might’ve flickered across his face, but you were too busy wiping your sleeve against your eyes to notice.

“You need to understand that not every boy will have your best interests at heart,” Caleb goes on to say softly, but his disapproval still remains weaved within his words, “trust me on this.”

You slowly lower your arm from your face to glare at him from below your lashes as betrayal is written plainly on your features.

“Then why were you snooping through my phone, Caleb?”

His face pales.

“Pips, it’s not like—“

You cut him off with your quiet tone and unwavering gaze.

“You were the one who violated my trust in you, and you dare to tell me to trust you when you go so far as to look through my messages? Not only that, but you also deliberately found out my boyfriend’s address just so you could threaten him? What, did you really think I wouldn’t know? What’s wrong with you?”

Caleb’s eyes were downcast, his frown beginning to quirk up into an infuriating small smile.

“So, you’ve got me there,” he replies with a leveled voice, sunset eyes going on to peer at you as the most punchable expression you’ve ever seen him wear makes your insides boil and simmer with anger.

“Aren’t I pathetic?”

It was as if the fractured lines within you finally gave way as something snapped, and you reeled your clenched fist back before connecting it firmly against his nose. You didn’t even register that you did it until you spot the red seeping from his nostril.

Not expecting your violent retaliation, he had stumbled a step backwards, eyes widened in shock as he looked at your just as shocked face, to the now bloodied hand he had just used to touch his now broken nose, then back to your face.

You watch in abject terror as you see the surprise morph to hurt in his eyes, then to how it darkens like a storm cloud; the calm before the downpour of a quiet fury you’ve never seen him direct towards you now settled onto your frozen form.

With a vice grip like unyielding iron, Caleb drags you screeching by the wrist up the stairs.

“I-I… I didn’t mean to—! Gege, that hurts, stop—!“

Your frantic stammering does nothing to deter him from shoving you hard onto his bed as he closes the door behind him with a jarring softness.

“Do you know,” he begins lowly, “how many times I have let you off the hook?”

Words seemed to be lodged somewhere between fear and your throat. All you could muster in response was a tiny nod.

“How many times I have been nothing but a good brother to you?”

As he talks, he slowly approaches you, feet stopping right before the foot of his bed.

You crawl backwards out of fear until you reach his headboard.

“You’re not getting away scotch-free this time, no,” he barks out a laugh before he’s on the bed inching closer to you.

“You’re going to be punished, and you’re going to see just how mean gege can get.”

“Caleb, let me go! I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head. “It’s too late for sorries.”

With ease, he yanks you down by the ankles; then, in a flash he pins your wrists above your head.

The blood from his nose drips onto your face as his hovers above yours, its metallic taste meeting your tongue as it dribbles into your agape mouth.

It tasted like the beginning of the end, like a jigsaw puzzle falling apart, like the pieces of it will never be able to be connected the way they once were ever again.

Then, your eyes travel down his body to see the tented up fabric of his jeans. Your eyes widen— part trepidation, part incredulity.

“Are you seriously hard from—“

Before you could finish your sentence, his crimson-stained lips crashed against yours, the taste of his blood becoming ever more omnipresent to you.

He growls into the kiss as you squirm around beneath him. Your whimpers were muffled before being silenced by his tongue wrestling against yours.

Why was heat flaring up within your core? Were you… liking this as much as he was?

After a moment, he pulls back, a string of shared saliva stretching from his lips to yours. He looks at you with an indiscernible look in his eye before going to sit at the side of the bed.

Without the tenderness that usually accompanied his words, he sharply demands:

“Get up. Strip and lay across my lap.”

“Caleb, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

His steeled stare doesn’t budge from you. “That wasn’t a question.”

Biting at your lip, you do as you’re told; you shrug off your top, then slip out of your shorts and panties.

“No bra?” Caleb’s breath hitches in his throat. “You want to be ogled at by men, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply before he impatiently jerks you towards him by the hand. You get the memo and sprawl yourself down onto his lap.

A large hand deceivingly trails up the back of your thigh to the flesh of your bare ass.

”Count.”

Without waiting for your reaction, that same large hand was mercilessly and swiftly raised in the air before striking you on the left asscheek. A loud yelp leaves you.

“O-One,” you begin.

Your stepbrother wordlessly raises his hand again. The palm of it meets your skin once more, and another cry falls off your lips.

”Two!”

Deceptively, Caleb’s palm caresses your reddening behind. But what relief it provided was short-lived as it was struck against the meat of your ass again.

”Three,” you sob out with a hiccup, jolting slightly in his grasp. Your gaze remains on the carpeted floor as heat not only rises to your asscheeks, but also to the ones on your face. You were a tad curious what expression he was sporting right now, but knew better than to look.

”Four.” Tears of humiliation well up in your eyes this time.

”Keep moving around so much and we’ll start again from zero,” comes Caleb’s flat voice devoid of any joviality that you were so used to hearing from him.

You try to give him a small nod in acknowledgement amidst your breathy whimpers, but Caleb tuts in dissatisfaction while pinching the fat of your ass hard enough for you to shriek “yes gege!”

As the fifth spanking lands, your tears were now streaking down your flushed cheeks and your voice began to wobble while continuing to count.

”N-Nine…”

If only you were able to see the hardened yet pitying expression on his face.

But bad girls needed to be punished, and you were no exception to the rule.

Two fingertips dance along your slit, now coated in your slick— Caleb quirks a brow, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

”What’s this? Are you seriously wet from this, pipsqueak?”

Your ears burn red at him using your own words against you from earlier; your immediate reaction was to deny it, but he had already made it clear that he was onto you and the way you actually enjoyed this with your stepbrother of all people.

An impatient resounding slap echoes when it meets its mark and you hiss in pain. “I asked you a question,” he chides.

You bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

”Oh? So it’s like that, huh.”

Smack!

That last one hurt more than any of the others, evident through how you wail out his name.

”I didn’t tell you to stop counting either.” Caleb’s tone was resolute and pertinacious.

”Ten!” you cry out, “yes I am, sir!”

”Yes, you are what?”

A beat passes before you think twice about ignoring his questions again.

”I’m wet because of you, gege!”

“God, you’re soaked,” he muttered, almost reverently. You wanted so badly to deny it, but when you’re rewarded by his long digits dipping within your folds, the shameful slickness there told the truth for you. You couldn’t help the embarrassingly lewd mewl that escapes you at how the two of them easily slide in with the help of your natural lubrication.

”Now was that so, so hard?” Caleb rhetorically asks as you squirm around atop his lap. You can feel his neglected bulge poke your stomach with every motion you make.

His deft fingers curl upwards to repeatedly stroke your walls, eliciting another drawn out moan from you as they directly make contact with your g-spot. The obscene squelching noises resulting from it cause you to squeeze your eyes shut in burning shame.

”Look at me,” he orders.

You oblige by turning your head with a sniffle. By now the blood from his nosebleed had dried up, the fading red stripe from his nostril down to his shirt reminding you of your monumental mistake.

When your tear-stained face peers up at him, something in his stare softens, but only by a small margin. He hated to see you cry—always had ever since you would bruise your knees at the playground when you two were little—but he knew this was necessary to make amends for your misstep out of line.

Actions never fail to have consequences, as you would come to thoroughly learn.

”There’s my girl,” he says with a slight quirk of his lips, “y’know, I’ve always wondered how you would scream my name and come undone by my touch. Not like this, however.”

You stay silent, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation. You also did not want to incur more of his wrath by saying the wrong thing.

Much to your relief, he continues it for you by sighing and issuing another command.

”Sit up.”

Obediently, you straighten yourself up on his lap, wincing as the sore flesh of your ass chafed against the rough material of his jeans. You wrap your legs around his midsection before burying your face into his chest.

And then it was like the dam broke, the brunt of your mixed emotions surfacing and coalescing into more intense, body-wracking sobs. You unreservedly snivel into his shirt as you shed more and more tears.

His arms tighten around you when he notices your smaller form begin to quiver like a leaf in the wind. Only when he realizes you’re speaking does he relax his hold while leaning back to hear you more clearly.

”I’m s-sorry,” you babble, your words tumbling out one after another while being intermittently punctuated by hiccups, “it was spur of the moment, I’m sorry for hurting you Caleb, you didn’t deserve that…”

Your beloved gege cups your face in his large hands, the pads of his thumbs brushing sweetly against the wet skin underneath your eyes; the very same pair of eyes he swears will be his downfall one day.

He rocks you both with a gentle back-and-forth movement, shushing you in an attempt to soothe you as the hand splayed against your back rubs mollifying circles into the skin there.

Even as he cradles you, you can feel it— how he wasn’t comforting you to exactly make you feel safe. He comforts you to remind you: you belong to him.

“Gege’s here. You’re safe with me— safe from yourself, too. You just don’t know it yet.”

It felt safe. But only because he’d made everywhere else unsafe.

Caleb holds you without another word until you tire yourself out from your weeping. As you succumb to sleep within his arms, he carefully lays your head against his pillows before fetching a throw blanket nearby to drape over your peacefully slumbering frame.

For a long while, he sits and watches as your chest slowly rises up and down with every shallow breath you take. He tenderly moves the stray strands of hair away from your serene countenance.

Finally, he gets up to go to change shirts before going to the bathroom. He stares at his reflection with a hand raised to lightly trace the crusted trail of blood that extends from his nose, down to his chin.

Seeing the aftermath before him made it all so much more real to him— he also couldn’t help the small laugh he had to himself. He knew he had taught his little sister how to throw a good punch well, so naturally she got him so good he was sure his nose was definitely broken.

But, one little punch wasn’t enough to deter him from exterminating the latest pest in his and her life.

One day you’d understand. Of that, Caleb was certain of.

He fishes his phone out of his jean pocket to swipe it open. Then, he navigates to his notes app where your boyfriend’s address is laid in waiting for him.

459 Twilight Boulevard.

Quietly so as to not disturb you, Caleb gets up to pluck his gun from the drawer of his nightstand. He leans down to give you a light kiss against your forehead, to which you adorably crinkle your nose in your sleep.

He chuckles, the sound ominous amidst your innocent breathing.

”I’ll be right back, pipsqueak. Gege has some business to take care of.”

[inkytoru]

KISS WITH A FIST ── .✦ ꒰ caleb y. ꒱

SYNOPSIS: You were tired of constantly being treated like a thing to protect by your older stepbrother, Caleb. Having reached your breaking point, you punch him. These are the consequences of your actions; the aftermath spelling out the beginning of the end.

PAIRING: caleb yizhou x f!reader WORD COUNT: 2.4k ⚠ CONTENT WARNINGS: dubcon, pseudo/stepcest, non-consensual spanking/impact play, humiliation, blood, violence, power dynamics/imbalance, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, vaginal fingering, manipulative aftercare

A/N: minors dni. this was supposed to be a short drabble idk what happened. anyways, angry caleb with a nosebleed anyone?

ao3 mirror.

“You always do this, gege!” you whine, and Caleb thinks you look breathtaking as always, but especially so with the way tears of frustration bead at your lashline and how that damned pout of yours makes his cock stir.

The restraint it took to not ravage you right then and there almost makes him want to groan.

Instead, a slight frown tugs at his lips as he looks down at you.

“He’s no good for you, pips. Why do you always go for the shitheads?” And why won’t you ever look at me the way you do at them?

You looked as if a scream was about to tear itself from your throat.

“Who are you to tell me who’s good for me or not?!” your voice was rising to a dangerous volume, and Caleb was glad grandma wasn’t home.

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

“You may not be,” Caleb grits through his teeth, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you.” The way a good boyfriend would do.

At this point, the tears that were welling up in your eyes now fell freely and slid down your cheeks. It broke Caleb’s heart that he was the one making you cry, and a flash of regret might’ve flickered across his face, but you were too busy wiping your sleeve against your eyes to notice.

“You need to understand that not every boy will have your best interests at heart,” Caleb goes on to say softly, but his disapproval still remains weaved within his words, “trust me on this.”

You slowly lower your arm from your face to glare at him from below your lashes as betrayal is written plainly on your features.

“Then why were you snooping through my phone, Caleb?”

His face pales.

“Pips, it’s not like—“

You cut him off with your quiet tone and unwavering gaze.

“You were the one who violated my trust in you, and you dare to tell me to trust you when you go so far as to look through my messages? Not only that, but you also deliberately found out my boyfriend’s address just so you could threaten him? What, did you really think I wouldn’t know? What’s wrong with you?”

Caleb’s eyes were downcast, his frown beginning to quirk up into an infuriating small smile.

“So, you’ve got me there,” he replies with a leveled voice, sunset eyes going on to peer at you as the most punchable expression you’ve ever seen him wear makes your insides boil and simmer with anger.

“Aren’t I pathetic?”

It was as if the fractured lines within you finally gave way as something snapped, and you reeled your clenched fist back before connecting it firmly against his nose. You didn’t even register that you did it until you spot the red seeping from his nostril.

Not expecting your violent retaliation, he had stumbled a step backwards, eyes widened in shock as he looked at your just as shocked face, to the now bloodied hand he had just used to touch his now broken nose, then back to your face.

You watch in abject terror as you see the surprise morph to hurt in his eyes, then to how it darkens like a storm cloud; the calm before the downpour of a quiet fury you’ve never seen him direct towards you now settled onto your frozen form.

With a vice grip like unyielding iron, Caleb drags you screeching by the wrist up the stairs.

“I-I… I didn’t mean to—! Gege, that hurts, stop—!“

Your frantic stammering does nothing to deter him from shoving you hard onto his bed as he closes the door behind him with a jarring softness.

“Do you know,” he begins lowly, “how many times I have let you off the hook?”

Words seemed to be lodged somewhere between fear and your throat. All you could muster in response was a tiny nod.

“How many times I have been nothing but a good brother to you?”

As he talks, he slowly approaches you, feet stopping right before the foot of his bed.

You crawl backwards out of fear until you reach his headboard.

“You’re not getting away scotch-free this time, no,” he barks out a laugh before he’s on the bed inching closer to you.

“You’re going to be punished, and you’re going to see just how mean gege can get.”

“Caleb, let me go! I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head. “It’s too late for sorries.”

With ease, he yanks you down by the ankles; then, in a flash he pins your wrists above your head.

The blood from his nose drips onto your face as his hovers above yours, its metallic taste meeting your tongue as it dribbles into your agape mouth.

It tasted like the beginning of the end, like a jigsaw puzzle falling apart, like the pieces of it will never be able to be connected the way they once were ever again.

Then, your eyes travel down his body to see the tented up fabric of his jeans. Your eyes widen— part trepidation, part incredulity.

“Are you seriously hard from—“

Before you could finish your sentence, his crimson-stained lips crashed against yours, the taste of his blood becoming ever more omnipresent to you.

He growls into the kiss as you squirm around beneath him. Your whimpers were muffled before being silenced by his tongue wrestling against yours.

Why was heat flaring up within your core? Were you… liking this as much as he was?

After a moment, he pulls back, a string of shared saliva stretching from his lips to yours. He looks at you with an indiscernible look in his eye before going to sit at the side of the bed.

Without the tenderness that usually accompanied his words, he sharply demands:

“Get up. Strip and lay across my lap.”

“Caleb, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

His steeled stare doesn’t budge from you. “That wasn’t a question.”

Biting at your lip, you do as you’re told; you shrug off your top, then slip out of your shorts and panties.

“No bra?” Caleb’s breath hitches in his throat. “You want to be ogled at by men, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply before he impatiently jerks you towards him by the hand. You get the memo and sprawl yourself down onto his lap.

A large hand deceivingly trails up the back of your thigh to the flesh of your bare ass.

”Count.”

Without waiting for your reaction, that same large hand was mercilessly and swiftly raised in the air before striking you on the left asscheek. A loud yelp leaves you.

“O-One,” you begin.

Your stepbrother wordlessly raises his hand again. The palm of it meets your skin once more, and another cry falls off your lips.

”Two!”

Deceptively, Caleb’s palm caresses your reddening behind. But what relief it provided was short-lived as it was struck against the meat of your ass again.

”Three,” you sob out with a hiccup, jolting slightly in his grasp. Your gaze remains on the carpeted floor as heat not only rises to your asscheeks, but also to the ones on your face. You were a tad curious what expression he was sporting right now, but knew better than to look.

”Four.” Tears of humiliation well up in your eyes this time.

”Keep moving around so much and we’ll start again from zero,” comes Caleb’s flat voice devoid of any joviality that you were so used to hearing from him.

You try to give him a small nod in acknowledgement amidst your breathy whimpers, but Caleb tuts in dissatisfaction while pinching the fat of your ass hard enough for you to shriek “yes gege!”

As the fifth spanking lands, your tears were now streaking down your flushed cheeks and your voice began to wobble while continuing to count.

”N-Nine…”

If only you were able to see the hardened yet pitying expression on his face.

But bad girls needed to be punished, and you were no exception to the rule.

Two fingertips dance along your slit, now coated in your slick— Caleb quirks a brow, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

”What’s this? Are you seriously wet from this, pipsqueak?”

Your ears burn red at him using your own words against you from earlier; your immediate reaction was to deny it, but he had already made it clear that he was onto you and the way you actually enjoyed this with your stepbrother of all people.

An impatient resounding slap echoes when it meets its mark and you hiss in pain. “I asked you a question,” he chides.

You bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

”Oh? So it’s like that, huh.”

Smack!

That last one hurt more than any of the others, evident through how you wail out his name.

”I didn’t tell you to stop counting either.” Caleb’s tone was resolute and pertinacious.

”Ten!” you cry out, “yes I am, sir!”

”Yes, you are what?”

A beat passes before you think twice about ignoring his questions again.

”I’m wet because of you, gege!”

“God, you’re soaked,” he muttered, almost reverently. You wanted so badly to deny it, but when you’re rewarded by his long digits dipping within your folds, the shameful slickness there told the truth for you. You couldn’t help the embarrassingly lewd mewl that escapes you at how the two of them easily slide in with the help of your natural lubrication.

”Now was that so, so hard?” Caleb rhetorically asks as you squirm around atop his lap. You can feel his neglected bulge poke your stomach with every motion you make.

His deft fingers curl upwards to repeatedly stroke your walls, eliciting another drawn out moan from you as they directly make contact with your g-spot. The obscene squelching noises resulting from it cause you to squeeze your eyes shut in burning shame.

”Look at me,” he orders.

You oblige by turning your head with a sniffle. By now the blood from his nosebleed had dried up, the fading red stripe from his nostril down to his shirt reminding you of your monumental mistake.

When your tear-stained face peers up at him, something in his stare softens, but only by a small margin. He hated to see you cry—always had ever since you would bruise your knees at the playground when you two were little—but he knew this was necessary to make amends for your misstep out of line.

Actions never fail to have consequences, as you would come to thoroughly learn.

”There’s my girl,” he says with a slight quirk of his lips, “y’know, I’ve always wondered how you would scream my name and come undone by my touch. Not like this, however.”

You stay silent, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation. You also did not want to incur more of his wrath by saying the wrong thing.

Much to your relief, he continues it for you by sighing and issuing another command.

”Sit up.”

Obediently, you straighten yourself up on his lap, wincing as the sore flesh of your ass chafed against the rough material of his jeans. You wrap your legs around his midsection before burying your face into his chest.

And then it was like the dam broke, the brunt of your mixed emotions surfacing and coalescing into more intense, body-wracking sobs. You unreservedly snivel into his shirt as you shed more and more tears.

His arms tighten around you when he notices your smaller form begin to quiver like a leaf in the wind. Only when he realizes you’re speaking does he relax his hold while leaning back to hear you more clearly.

”I’m s-sorry,” you babble, your words tumbling out one after another while being intermittently punctuated by hiccups, “it was spur of the moment, I’m sorry for hurting you Caleb, you didn’t deserve that…”

Your beloved gege cups your face in his large hands, the pads of his thumbs brushing sweetly against the wet skin underneath your eyes; the very same pair of eyes he swears will be his downfall one day.

He rocks you both with a gentle back-and-forth movement, shushing you in an attempt to soothe you as the hand splayed against your back rubs mollifying circles into the skin there.

Even as he cradles you, you can feel it— how he wasn’t comforting you to exactly make you feel safe. He comforts you to remind you: you belong to him.

“Gege’s here. You’re safe with me— safe from yourself, too. You just don’t know it yet.”

It felt safe. But only because he’d made everywhere else unsafe.

Caleb holds you without another word until you tire yourself out from your weeping. As you succumb to sleep within his arms, he carefully lays your head against his pillows before fetching a throw blanket nearby to drape over your peacefully slumbering frame.

For a long while, he sits and watches as your chest slowly rises up and down with every shallow breath you take. He tenderly moves the stray strands of hair away from your serene countenance.

Finally, he gets up to go to change shirts before going to the bathroom. He stares at his reflection with a hand raised to lightly trace the crusted trail of blood that extends from his nose, down to his chin.

Seeing the aftermath before him made it all so much more real to him— he also couldn’t help the small laugh he had to himself. He knew he had taught his little sister how to throw a good punch well, so naturally she got him so good he was sure his nose was definitely broken.

But, one little punch wasn’t enough to deter him from exterminating the latest pest in his and her life.

One day you’d understand. Of that, Caleb was certain of.

He fishes his phone out of his jean pocket to swipe it open. Then, he navigates to his notes app where your boyfriend’s address is laid in waiting for him.

459 Twilight Boulevard.

Quietly so as to not disturb you, Caleb gets up to pluck his gun from the drawer of his nightstand. He leans down to give you a light kiss against your forehead, to which you adorably crinkle your nose in your sleep.

He chuckles, the sound ominous amidst your innocent breathing.

”I’ll be right back, pipsqueak. Gege has some business to take care of.”

[inkytoru]

actually gonna drop this tmm because i forgor mondays sucks for posting so there’s still time to lmk if u wanna be tagged too !! (it also became 2.4k words now lmao)

a drabble for caleb somehow turned into 2.2k words of porn with a little plot……. would anyone like to be tagged

[inkytoru]

a drabble for caleb somehow turned into 2.2k words of porn with a little plot……. would anyone like to be tagged

[inkytoru]

l*dstwt fucking sucks 😭😭😭😭

[inkytoru]

🏷️ TAGLIST: @hunters-association, @pixelcafe-network

⚠︎ ˒ ៸៸ cw: f!reader, cult themes/religious abuse, noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, fearplay, bloodplay, objectification, breeding, exhibitionism, sexual coercion/spiritual coercion, yandere behavior

cult leader!sylus who gets cute virgin women sacrificed and corrupted in his name. he especially likes when their hair is long enough for him to pull when he robs them of their purity.

cult leader!sylus who loves it when they cry big fat tears of fear; licks them away with a smirk and a compliment on his lips at how delicious the saltiness of their tears are and how much they’re turning him on right now.

cult leader!sylus is not familiar with the concept of condoms. he’s got a raging breeding kink and is looking to raise the perfect little heir to his throne. so naturally, there are days dedicated to ensuring his seed takes. even when you’re exhausted and (borderline) asleep or protesting and weakly attempting to push him away he’ll find himself in your walls again, giving you cervix kisses with his fat tip.

cult leader!sylus who tells his followers sex (whether it be with him or others) is a mandatory spiritual duty. it is the pathway to salvation, higher consciousness, and divine favor. you want to be cleansed of your bad karma, right?

cult leader!sylus who preaches about the divine feminine in his own twisted way. he relishes in the awe and zealous looks from all the women listening and hanging onto every last word he says. and the ones that disagree? well, they know better than to challenge his teachings.

cult leader!sylus satisfies his exhibitionist side by telling all his followers that in order to appease him, they are bound to watch as he defiles women on the altar. over and over again. everyone is advised never to avert their gaze, for if they do, punishment will be swift and imminent.

cult leader!sylus choosing you to be his favorite. you take pride in this, and love to gloat when the other girls glare with envy as clear as day at you as you sashay by his side past them. you are his prized possession; and it shows with the way he looks at you as if he’s just as devoted to you as you are to him. he swears you’ll be his downfall one day.

cult leader!sylus makes you off limits to everyone else but him. no other man is to touch you—with friendly gestures or otherwise—without his say so. and if they try to circumvent this rule, well that just won’t do. the very next day, he has them sacrificed in his name.

cult leader!sylus collecting the blood from your broken hymen when he takes you for the first time. he then has it fashioned into a ring by a bloodsmith that he always keeps on his ring finger.

cult leader!sylus uses mephisto to record your first time together, and the many times after that. he swears that the footage (especially the one where your virginity is taken) holds power that strengthens him every time he touches himself to them.

cult leader!sylus officially decrees one day that you are of equal status to him, and that all are to worship you both. this sparks many murmurs and whispers, but no one objects knowing very well what their fate would be should they question their leader that has never steered them wrong.

cult leader!sylus knows it in his very heart, spirit, and soul that you two were made for each other and that you were always meant to rule alongside him as the divine feminine to his divine masculine.

© INKYTORU — do not repost, translate, feed AI, or plagiarize any of my content. please refrain from sharing or recommending my work on other platforms outside of tumblr such as tiktok. MINORS DNI.

[inkytoru]

⚠︎ ˒ ៸៸ cw: f!reader, cult themes/religious abuse, noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, fearplay, bloodplay, objectification, breeding, exhibitionism, sexual coercion/spiritual coercion, yandere behavior

cult leader!sylus who gets cute virgin women sacrificed and corrupted in his name. he especially likes when their hair is long enough for him to pull when he robs them of their purity.

cult leader!sylus who loves it when they cry big fat tears of fear; licks them away with a smirk and a compliment on his lips at how delicious the saltiness of their tears are and how much they’re turning him on right now.

cult leader!sylus is not familiar with the concept of condoms. he’s got a raging breeding kink and is looking to raise the perfect little heir to his throne. so naturally, there are days dedicated to ensuring his seed takes. even when you’re exhausted and (borderline) asleep or protesting and weakly attempting to push him away he’ll find himself in your walls again, giving you cervix kisses with his fat tip.

cult leader!sylus who tells his followers sex (whether it be with him or others) is a mandatory spiritual duty. it is the pathway to salvation, higher consciousness, and divine favor. you want to be cleansed of your bad karma, right?

cult leader!sylus who preaches about the divine feminine in his own twisted way. he relishes in the awe and zealous looks from all the women listening and hanging onto every last word he says. and the ones that disagree? well, they know better than to challenge his teachings.

cult leader!sylus satisfies his exhibitionist side by telling all his followers that in order to appease him, they are bound to watch as he defiles women on the altar. over and over again. everyone is advised never to avert their gaze, for if they do, punishment will be swift and imminent.

cult leader!sylus choosing you to be his favorite. you take pride in this, and love to gloat when the other girls glare with envy as clear as day at you as you sashay by his side past them. you are his prized possession; and it shows with the way he looks at you as if he’s just as devoted to you as you are to him. he swears you’ll be his downfall one day.

cult leader!sylus makes you off limits to everyone else but him. no other man is to touch you—with friendly gestures or otherwise—without his say so. and if they try to circumvent this rule, well that just won’t do. the very next day, he has them sacrificed in his name.

cult leader!sylus collecting the blood from your broken hymen when he takes you for the first time. he then has it fashioned into a ring by a bloodsmith that he always keeps on his ring finger.

cult leader!sylus uses mephisto to record your first time together, and the many times after that. he swears that the footage (especially the one where your virginity is taken) holds power that strengthens him every time he touches himself to them.

cult leader!sylus officially decrees one day that you are of equal status to him, and that all are to worship you both. this sparks many murmurs and whispers, but no one objects knowing very well what their fate would be should they question their leader that has never steered them wrong.

cult leader!sylus knows it in his very heart, spirit, and soul that you two were made for each other and that you were always meant to rule alongside him as the divine feminine to his divine masculine.

© INKYTORU — do not repost, translate, feed AI, or plagiarize any of my content. please refrain from sharing or recommending my work on other platforms outside of tumblr such as tiktok. MINORS DNI.

[inkytoru]

i love tumblr glitches. sponsored message everyone

[inkytoru]

— Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse; Fragments [translated by Richard Howard]

[inkytoru]

sorry i came in 52 seconds i am obsessed with you

[inkytoru]

Biker sanzu! 💪🏻💣